


It's Time

by infiniteeight



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha Phil Coulson, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Omega Clint Barton, no warnings necessary!, this ABO fic has a discussion of consent before the heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-09
Updated: 2013-09-09
Packaged: 2017-12-26 02:21:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/960446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infiniteeight/pseuds/infiniteeight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint has been suppressing for far, far too long. But despite the physical repercussions, he resists going off his meds...at least until Phil offers to help him through his heat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Time

**Author's Note:**

> Not betaed, because I damn well needed to post something. 
> 
> Prompt via AdamantSteve. Thank you! I, uh, forgot the details of it, just that it was about Clint coming off suppressants. Hopefully this works for you. *sheepish*

It was supposed to be a regular post-mission physical. They weren't even supposed to run bloodwork. But Medical had Clint in their sights, and when he was ordered there to submit to their tests, they drew the blood even though they didn't need it for the _mission_ check up. He scowled at them, knowing exactly what was for, but he didn't realize how serious it was until the doctor came back with Phil at her side.

"You called my _handler?_ " Clint snapped. "Seriously? This isn't any of his business!"

"Your health is my business," Coulson said sharply. "Dr. Layton says you've been suppressing--"

"That's my choice," Clint interrupted.

Coulson pushed on, "--without a break for at least six years. Likely closer to eight."

Clint just scowled.

The doctor took a slow breath. "Agent Barton. We talked about this during your last two annual physicals, and frankly, given how badly your hormones have built up, I suspect you somehow ducked your intake exam." He had; he'd been in awful shape at the time, and he hadn't known SHIELD well enough to know that they wouldn't have booted him for that. 

"If you don't allow yourself at least one, preferably two, full, unsuppressed heats, I'm going to have to suspend your field clearance," Doctor Layton went on.

Clint sat bolt upright. "Doc!"

"Suppressents aren't recommended for more than five years in a row for a _reason_. Both the medication and the hormones have been building up in your system; frankly, they're toxic at this point." Layton paused, pursing her lips. "Not that you'd ever actually report it, but I expect you've been experiencing intermittent nausea and dizziness." He looked away. "If we don't let your system flush clean, you're going to start experience confusion and memory gaps." When he still didn't respond, the doctor's tone sharpened. "Blurred vision is another symptom. How does that one sound?"

"It sounds fucking awful," Clint spat. "Nearly as bad as letting some horny asshole hold me down and use me like a sex toy." The doctor paled and stepped back. "You're a beta, right, doc? You watch all those misty romances about omegas finding the perfect alpha and swooning into their arms and living happily ever after? Newsflash: most of the time it doesn't fucking work like that. Most of the time it's an alpha stalking an omega like a piece of meat because they know if they wait it won't matter if the omega doesn't want--"

"Agent Barton," Coulson broke in, quiet but implacable. "That will be quite enough." Clint bit off the rest of the words, still glaring at the doctor. After a moment, and a brief glance at Coulson, she left the room. Coulson frowned at Clint. "Dr. Layton didn't deserve that; she genuinely has your health in mind."

Clint shook his head, looking down at his hands, clenched around the edge of the examining bed. "Yeah, well, she didn't hear me when I said it nicely. Sometimes you gotta be blunt to get your point across."

"And why was it necessary to make that point?" Coulson asked. "Omegas have solo heats all the time. I'm given to understand that they're not fun, but they are possible."

Sighing, Clint finally looked up. Coulson was still frowning, his hands tucked into his pants pockets. "Not if you've been suppressing, they aren't," Clint said. "Having an alpha take you through makes heats easier because alpha hormones sorta neutralize omega hormones. Solo heats work when there aren't enough hormones in your system to crank your body up into the dangerous ranges. But when you've been suppressing, the hormones build up..." He shrugged.

"Which means that if you don't have an alpha there when they get released, extended high fever and extreme muscle spasms result," Coulson finished. "Damn it, Clint, why didn't you go off sooner, then?"

Clint snorted. "Before SHIELD, it wasn't an option. By the time you brought me in, it was already too late."

They were quiet for a long moment. "You can't keep suppressing," Coulson said finally.

"You try and send an alpha in for me, I'll fight," Clint returned, setting his jaw.

"Even if it was me?"

Clint stared at him. "Are you serious?"

Coulson frowned. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because heats _mean_ something to you!" Clint blurted. "I know they do, you've turned down every request for a casual heat since I've known you, and there've been more than a few. You can't compromise that for me."

"Clint," Coulson said, voice soft. "Helping you _would_ mean something to me. Let me take care of you."

Scrubbing a hand through his hair, Clint had to laugh. "That's taking your responsibility for your assest above and beyond, Coulson."

Coulson's lips quirked into a smile. "If you think our relationship is limited to an asset-handler one, I'm going to be looking back on that one strip poker game in a whole new light."

Clint snorted and flashed Phil a grin. "Point taken. And for the record, I'd have won if you hadn't insisted we stop before we lost our skivvies." He blew out a slow breath. "So I guess we're doing this."

Phil's expression softened, but what he said was, "I'll try not to take your lack of enthusiasm as a critique of my bedroom abilities."

Clint snickered and felt the tension start to bleed out of his shoulders. Maybe, just maybe, this would work out okay. "We better get the doctor back in here. After seven and a half years, I doubt this is going to be as easy as stopping the meds and letting nature take it's course."

He was right. According to Dr. Layton, letting his body process out the last of the suppressants on its own would only lead to a period of physical stress while his natural chemical balance struggled to break through the weakening barrier, followed by a strung out heat that might not even burn off all the built up hormones effectively. So instead of stopped the meds and waiting, he'd be stopping the meds and, three days later, taking a hormone booster to help his body over the block and into a full blown heat. On top of that, where a normal heat lasted two or three days at most, Layton figured once his got going it'd be a good five days, maybe as many as seven, before he burned off enough hormones to come down again. And then there was the cherry on the top of the whole business: he'd need to be medically monitored the whole time.

"Does that mean I have to be in _medical?_ " Clint asked, horrified. Going into heat was bad enough. Needing to be wired up sucked. But the idea of people _watching..._ Nausea swelled and, for a moment, he thought some blurred vision didn't sound so bad.

"We wouldn't be watching _you_ ," Dr. Layton said, awkwardly. "We'd be watching the monitors. I'm sorry, Agent Barton, I really am, but your body is going to be under a lot of stress. Having an alpha there with you takes the risk down from almost certainly fatal to just dangerous, but there is still a chance of cardiac arrest."

"I think I'm going to be sick," Clint said.

Phil put a hand on Clint's shoulder and squeezed once. "Doctor," he said, "if I put you in contact with JARVIS, and we had a medical response team on standby, would the Tower be a viable alternative?" Hope surged in Clint and he shot the doctor a pleading look. She hesitated. Phil added, "If you'd like to discuss his capabilities, to make sure they'd sufficient, we could call now."

Layton glanced at Clint and nodded.

Clint would never be more grateful to Tony in his _life_ than he was when JARVIS finally convinced Dr. Layton that his sensors--tested on Tony himself in a wide variety of situations--were more than up to the task of monitoring Clint's vitals. Even knowing that the AI would be forwarding his readings to the medical team whenever requested, a heat in a proper suite of rooms, no wires and no lurking doctors, sounded pretty damn good at this point.

With the doctor's blessing, and Phil's assurance that he'd take care of arranging medical leave, Clint went straight from medical back to the Tower. There he had the immensely awkward task of letting his teammates know what was going to be happening over the next week to ten days. To his surprise, their overriding reaction was relief.

He rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously after Tony blurted out, "Oh, thank God," and tried not to look at Natasha, who might have been muttering a prayer of thanks. "You could tell that I needed it?" Clint asked.

"It's not obvious on a casual basis," Bruce said, "but we're living together. Your scent has never been...quite right."

Clint grimaced. "Well. I guess it'll clear up after this."

"You'll be healthier; that's the part that's important to us," Steve said. "Will you need someone on call? In case you need food or water or something?"

"Fresh sheets?" Tony cracked a grin.

Clint snorted at Tony. "No, thanks, guys. I'm pretty sure Phil will take care of all of that."

"JARVIS will be listening in case you change your mind," Natasha put in, and Clint nodded.

He retreated to his room after that and sat on the bed for a moment, just breathing. After a minute he reached into the thigh pocket on his pants and pulled out the little metal pillbox that he was never without. Opening it, he stared down at the rows of little white pills. A good two weeks' supply of daily doses remained, but he wouldn't be taking them. Snapping the box shut, he leaned over and shut it into the bedside table drawer, then flopped onto his back on the bed. "Three days of waiting," he told the ceiling. "Awesome. That won't drive me crazy at all."

In the name of staving off the crazy, he decided to make dinner. From scratch. He was just taking the steaks out of the marinade to grill when footsteps made him look up and he saw Phil walk into the kitchen. "Sir," Clint said. "I wasn't expecting you," he said awkwardly. "But, hey, Thor's got three steaks. You can confiscate one of 'em."

Phil's lips quirked up a bit and he leaned against the counter, watching Clint work. "Thank you. I actually came to tell you that our leave is good to go, retroactive to noon today and running for ten days, subject to extension."

"Our?" Clint said, glancing back at Phil. "It's going to be three days before you're up to the plate, so to speak, yeah?"

"If you want it that way, then I'll oblige," Phil said carefully, "but I thought it might be nicer if we spent some time together first. I want you to be as comfortable as possible."

Images of Phil in jeans and t-shirt and reading glasses, or sitting kitty-corner from Clint at breakfast, or sleep rumpled in the morning, sprang into Clint's mind. He fought down a blush, looking down at the grilling steaks. "Yeah. That, um. That would be nice."

Phil changed for dinner, and other than a brief, "Agent, I didn't know you even owned t-shirts," from Tony, no one mentioned why he was eating with them so casually.

The next three days were...odd. No one mentioned Clint's upcoming heat, not even Clint or Phil. But Phil was there, out of his suits, smiling at Clint, delivering casual touches in a way he never had before. They were even sleeping in the same bed. Clint knew it was to get him comfortable with the intimacy, with Phil as an alpha, and he couldn't argue with the results, because as the days went on he stopped obsessing over what this heat was going to be like and started wondering what it might be like to go off the suppressants entirely, to have a steady, trusted partner for a safety net instead of a box of white pills. 

On the fourth day, Clint got up and made breakfast for them and tried not to think about the nausea making his stomach roil and the way his heart rate was already elevated. He nibbled on some toast.

Phil finished his breakfast, but then he folded his arms on the table and said, gently, "I'm thinking it's time."

Clint blew out a breath and pushed his mostly untouched breakfast away. "I guess so," he said, looking up at Phil and smiling wryly. "We need to go to medical?"

"No, I had them give me the syringe before I came here. I didn't think you'd want to travel back and forth." Phil went to the overnight bag he'd brought with him and withdrew a plastic case from an inside pocket. He came back to the table and pulled his chair over next to Clint, who offered the crook of his elbow.

Phil gave him the shot with precise, gentle care. Swiping the injection site with an alcohol swab, he offered Clint a reassuring smile, then glanced at the ceiling the way most of them did when addressing JARVIS. "JARVIS, if you could begin medical monitoring and activate as much of a privacy mode as that will allow."

"Done, Agent Coulson."

"Thanks, JARVIS," Clint said. "Not sure I could do this without your assist."

"I'm glad to help, Agent Barton."

For a moment they sat there, Phil stroking the pad of his thumb over the crook of Clint's elbow. "We should probably go to the bedroom," he eventually offered.

Clint nodded. The nausea was worse, but he wasn't sure if that was his heat coming on, or just nerves. "Did the doctor say how long it'd take my heat to kick in after the shot?"

Phil's hand came to rest in the small of Clint's back as they crossed into the bedroom. It stayed there as they sat together on the end of the bed. "Not exactly, just that it would be fast." Phil started rubbing Clint's back, and God, that felt really good. Clint's eyes drifted shut. "Is there anything you don't want me to do?"

"Like what?" Fuck, Phil's hand felt _really_ good. Clint took a deep breath and damn, Phil smelled good, too, rich and musky. The scent flowed into Clint and his muscles all seemed to warm and relax. 

"Some omegas only want a knot during a heat," Phil said, and Clint wasn't sure if he was really speaking that quietly, or if it just seemed distant. "Some want anything _but_ to be knotted. Strictly speaking, you don't need it, but it's probably better if we do, at least a couple times."

As if on cue, Clint ass throbbed and a wash of heat went through him. "I definitely want your knot," he said. He leaned toward Phil and ended up tucking his face into the crook of Phil's neck and inhaling. "Also, I want to put my face in your lap," he muttered, not thinking, just breathing in the smell of Phil. "Jesus, you smell good."

"So do you," Phil said, and his voice was low and rough in a way Clint has never heard before. He pried himself out of the crook of Phil's neck and used a finger to turn Phil to meet his eyes. Phil's breath was coming fast, his lips a bit red from where he'd been biting them. Clint moaned and leaned in to kiss him. The moment their lips met Phil eagerly leaned into the kiss, deepening it hungrily, and Clint scrambled to match him. Phil's tongue slid into his mouth and Clint had to stroke his own over it, had to suck, until his heart was thundering and his cock was achingly hard and he could feel sweat sliding down his ribs beneath his clothing. 

Breaking the kiss, Clint slid down off the bed and crawled around between Phil's knees. He reached up and opened Phil's fly, pushed his underwear down and pulled out his cock. Tentatively, Phil's hand brushed over his hair, and Clint paused and leaned into the touch. He looked up at Phil, who was flushed and ragged, and licked his lips. "I want you to touch me."

"Fuck," Phil moaned breathlessly, settling his hands on Clint's head. He swore again when Clint wrapped a hand around his knot, only just starting to swell, and yet again when Clint took his cock in his mouth.

The taste made his mouth flood with saliva, and Clint sucked messily but enthusiastically. He'd always enjoying sucking cock, but fuck, the heat throbbing through his body seemed to spread the satisfaction of it through him and Phil tasted awesome, and smelled better. Something about the rich musk in the air soothed the needy ache of his ass and made tight muscles loosen. Clint squeezed Phil's knot and rubbed his tongue over the hot length of Phil's dick, and _knew_ that he'd was going to get every little thing he needed.

"Clint," Phil panted, his fingers rubbing Clint's scalp, but not pulling. " _Clint._ That's...fuck, it's so good, you smell so good, please..."

Clint pulled off Phil's cock, giving the head a teasing lick as he went and leaned in to kiss Phil again, quick but dirty. "You ready to knot me?" he asked, low and husky, his fingers already curling around the hem of Phil's shirt.

"Fuck, yes," Phil said. He raised his hands and Clint stripped his shirt off. Phil tugged Clint's shirt off next, and they both took a second to shed pants and underwear and socks before climbing up onto the bed. Phil pulled Clint into his arms when they lay down and kissed him again, but his hands quickly slipped from Clint's hip over to cup his ass, fingers dipping into the crease to tease his hole. Clint moaned into the kiss, pushing back into the touch. Phil tightened his grip, fingers pressing into Clint's skin, one rubbing firmly over his opening, encourging the slick leaking from Clint, spreading it around, slowly breaching Clint's body.

Clint's gasp broke the kiss, and he struggled to breathe around the thundering of his heart. Leaning his head on Phil's shoulder, he hitched up a leg to give Phil more room to work. "Yeah," he panted. "That's good."

"Going to get you nice and wet for me," Phil told him, lips brushing Clint's ear even as he teased Clint's hole, just barely dipping inside before withdrawing again, rubbing the slick into his skin. "Going to make sure I can just slide into you, fill you up like you need."

Clint shuddered and wrapped an arm around Phil, his palm splayed between Phil's shoulderblades, holding him close. "Yes," he panted. "I need you, Phil. I need you to fuck me, need your knot." Phil sank two fingers into him and Clint moaned and pushed back onto them, moaned again when he felt his body release a pulse of slick, enough to soak Phil's fingers and drip down to damped the sheets. 

Instinct rose up in Clint like a wave and he groaned. "Fuck, let me," he pulled away from Phil. After a moment, Phil let him go and Clint moved just far enough to turn from his side onto his belly, pulling his knees up under himself, spread a little, putting his ass on display. His back prickled uncomfortably, being so exposed, even as his hole throbbed. "Phil," Clint whimpered.

"It's okay, I've got you," Phil said. He rubbed his hand over the slope of Clint's back even as he moved to kneel behind him. His hands came to rest on Clint's hips, and he leaned forward to place a kiss at the small of Clint's back. "I'm right here."

Clint let out a whoosh of breath and pressed up into the touch of Phil's lips. "Okay, okay. God, I need..." he broked off into a whine as another throb of _need_ went through him. "Phil, please."

"Yes," Phil replied raggedly. His hands tightened on Clint's hips. Clint had just a moment to register the hot nudge of Phil's cock against his hole and then it was sliding into him, hot and perfect, easing the sharp, desperate ache of need. 

Clint moaned and pushed back into it. " _More._ " 

Phil snapped his hips; Clint cried out at the intensity of the feeling, the sudden withdrawl and equally sudden return, rough and perfect. He bucked his hips back into it, past words, but Phil knew, Phil understood. Holding Clint's hips tightly, he started pounding into Clint, hard enough that the slap of skin meeting skin filled the room. Clint's hand fisted in the sheets as he anchored himself, pressed his forehead into the mattress to give himself more leverage to push back.

Clint could hardly breathe, but God, it was so good, so perfect, the driving rhythm sinking into his bones. He could feel Phil's knot, at first just half swollen, an extra bit of stretch to finish off those wonderful, delicious thrusts, then growing, becoming a demand, forcing Clint's body to give way before it. When Phil pulled out, drawing his growing knot out of Clint's body again, Clint felt his hole spasm, clutching at it, and he wailed, hips jerking, a trembling taking hold of him.

Phil paused, hands leaving Clint's hips to rub soothingly over his back. "You ready for my knot, baby?" Clint nodded frantically, mindlessly, spreading his thighs as wide as he could without losing his position. "Okay, okay, here we go." Clint panted harshly as Phil thrust into him again, slower but strong. Phil's knot pressed firmly against Clint for a moment, and then Phil forced it inside and Clint moaned brokenly, his body closing greedily around it. Phil worked his hips in tight circles, rubbing Clint's hole and shifting his knot around just enough to make spikes of pleasure lance through Clint as it swelled the last little bit.

The heavy, needy pleasure of Phil's knot so distracted Clint that he didn't even notice Phil's hand moving until it closed around his cock. The contact sent a wave of pleasure through him and Clint's body jerked, pulling at Phil's knot for a moment before jerking back onto it. Phil barely had to stroke him at all before Clint came, shuddering as his come spurted up onto his belly. His ass tightened, squeezing Phil hard, and Phil swore, grinding in tight. He let go of Clint's cock and gave two short little thrusts, their bodies too tightly tied for more, and came.

Inside Clint, Phil's knot throbbed, teasing out of the tail end of Clint's orgasm. He sucked in deep breaths, leaning heavily on his forearms, suddenly aware of just how hard his heart was pounding. 

"Clint?" Phil asked, his voice a bit thready.

"Yeah?" Clint managed. God, he was hoarse.

"Can we lie down?"

Clint huffed a short, breathless laugh. "Yeah."

Together, they managed a careful toppled onto their sides, Phil spooned up behind Clint, staying close for the tie. Phil put an arm around him, pressing it to Clint's chest. "Jesus, your heart rate is high." 

"Yeah," Clint said. "Coming down, though."

Phil leaned his forehead against the back of Clint's head. "You mind if I check in? Just with JARVIS."

Clint sighed. "Go ahead." There wasn't much to report at this stage; Clint's vitals had all spiked, but not enough to warrant intervention, and they knew that already. The good news was, the first wave was expected to be the worst. If he was okay now, he'd make through. "You doing okay?" Clint asked, after.

"Me?" Phil sounded confused.

"Not regretting offering?" Clint clarified.

"Clint, no." Phil hugged him, and Clint flushed when the embrace sent a quiet warmth through him. "Never. I know you're only doing this because you have to, but I want... I hope... I hope you can see that a heat can be good."

Clint smiled and tangled his fingers with Phil's. "That totally wasn't what you were going to say."

"No?" Phil sounded uncertain.

"Nope. You were going to say you hoped you could convince me to spend my heat with you again."

"Was I?" This time, there was a hesitant tease there.

Clint's smile broadened. "Yeah. But I think you oughta take me on a date first."

Phil laughed against the back of Clint's neck. "I think I can do that."

~End~


End file.
